


Christmas Civil War

by neurodramaticfool



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Christmas, Gen, italian cakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neurodramaticfool/pseuds/neurodramaticfool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courf has caused havoc, by introducing the Amis to the two Italian Christmas specialties: pandoro or panettone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Civil War

Courfeyrac had made the terrible mistake of turning Christmas in a war.

It all had happened a few years before, when the then 18 year-old boy had gone to spend the winter holidays with the Italian side of his family. When he’d come back to France in January all he’d brought for his friends had been two different types of cake.

“Okay, guys, this is a  _ pandoro _ ,” he had explained, with his perfect pronunciation, showing a weirdly-shaped box, of a pinkish colour.

“And this,” he had gone on, pointing another weirdly shaped box, this time red, “is a  _ panettone _ , they’re both typical Christmas cakes. They’re both good, but one is obviously better than the other”. 

 

And so the war had started, and each year it repeated itself, the same as the year before, among all the Amis. Because, everyone knows, no one can actually like pandoro and panettone the same, one has to pick a side, to pick a team. It’s either  _ team pandoro  _ or  _ team panettone _ , and it’s an everlasting war, that only calms down for ten months of the year to come back, stronger than ever, on the remaining two-months span. 

 

“Who’s bringing the cakes to the party?” had never been a question again, after that fatal year, but, despite the amount of Christmas parties that had been held together, the civil conflict between the eleven guys had still been sour.

 

Enjolras had tried, he really had tried, to persuade his friends that arguing over cakes was childish and silly, and not a good enough cause to put years and years of friendship at stake. But then, of course, Grantaire had had to go and object that “of course it’s a legit fight, Apollo, because until you fools stop saying that that tasteless thing that pandoro is, is better than panettone we can’t be friends with you. Like, ever”. And so, Enjolras had lost his patience and actually yelled in his face that panettone sucks, with its frigging raisins and candied fruit, and the amount of butter included in the recipe, and whatnot. 

That had been the time when R had proceeded to stuff a bit of panettone in Enjolras’s mouth and the blonde had had to swallow it - because spitting it would have been rude, as he had later specified - but had done it without looking away from Grantaire for all the duration of the operation. Needless to say, R had felt quite hot on his cheeks, and quite tight in his trousers for the rest of the evening. 

 

The following year, Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet had risked breaking up, all because “that fucker Lesgle” couldn’t pick a side and insisted on saying: “They both taste good, guys, come on, all tastes must be respected equally, I personally enjoy both pandoro and panettone, although they’re both a bit butter-y. We must admit the Italians have great skills in this…”.

Musichetta had not accepted the truth that lied in those words and had sulked all evening, threatening to bring home a year supply of panettone if Bossuet didn’t pick a side. Then Joly had informed her that their house was a bit too small to contain all those panettoni, so she had stated that she could always throw him out, given the fact that he actually enjoyed pandoro and refused to convert to panettone. “You infidel,” she’d added. 

 

Another time, when Jehan had decided to show up to the party for the first time - because they always were around the world during the holidays - and had elected that both the cakes tasted good, they risked actually creating a huge fight. Grantaire and Enjolras, who’d been dating for little less than a month now, started bickering loudly about why it was impossible to establish which cake was actually and non-subjectively better than the other, but their harmless discussion had been joined by Bahorel, on the panettone side, and consequently by Feuilly, on team pandoro. Eponine had felt compelled to comment that “whatever, guys, but panettone is obviously better, like you could understand”, and so Cosette, a recent addition to the group, had argued that she could say the same for pandoro, what they needed were serious, objective arguments, not the statement of one’s tastes and specific likings, as it would only be unproductive. Marius had tried to say that they both tasted good, and had received glances to burn him alive from both the girls. 

 

Until that moment, though, no one had managed to get Courf nor Combeferre into this fight, even if they had discording preferences and even if it was technically all Courfeyrac’s fault. 

The problem, unfortunately, had been that Enjolras had resorted to ask for Ferre’s aid to at least convince Grantaire to try a slice of pandoro, because it was so long since he’d eaten his last slice of pandoro, that he might have forgotten the taste, hance he could have been eating panettone and shouting his love for panettone all those years without actually knowing what he was missing. 

Combeferre had tried saying no, but someone had said “this will be fun”, and that someone had been Courfeyrac and everyone knew that Ferre couldn’t say no to a challenge coming more or less directly from Courf and so he’d got up and tried to persuade the artist.

“I’ll eat it only if both you and Enjolras eat a slice of panettone, for the same reasoning,” he’d stated, cutting two perfect slices of panettone for his friends.

“Nah, they would never, it’s too bourgeois for them, all with the raisins and candied-” Courfeyrac had joked, grabbing a slice for himself.

“Ex _ cuse me _ ,” Enjolras had interrupted him, “don’t drag politics into cakes, you’re just being childish!”. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not the one trying to convince my boyfriend to eat something he doesn’t like for the sake of an old ass argument! Plus, you’re dragging  _ my  _ boyfriend into said argument and we were perfectly fine without this, thank you!”, the half-Italian boy had countered, biting his panettone and turning his back to the three other boys. 

“Wait, what?” Grantaire and Enjolras had blurted out, at the very same time, “Your what? ...Ferre?”. 

  
Ferre had promptly disappeared, though, and no one was eating the second slice of panettone R had cut. And that was how, with a scowl and an angry face, Enjolras ate his second panettone of his life. (And he liked it, but he never said it). 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! So this has been written in like half an hour, it's probably full of mistakes...  
> But merry Christmas everyone! (And rest assured in Italy we don't really fight about cakes)


End file.
